


Lunch Meat

by ShyChangling



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Ableism, Cannibalism, Character Death, Gen, Horror, autocannibalism, fatphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyChangling/pseuds/ShyChangling
Summary: Its been a god damn three weeks and food was gone. Perhaps leaving only two men at base to guard it was a bad idea.Grif regrets being so careless with eating. But he can't help it. When he's scared, food is normalcy. When he's alone. Food was there. When he was neglected food would never betray him.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Lunch Meat

**Author's Note:**

> An experimental writing piece i wrote around four in the morning. Should I be writing when I just woken up? No. Will I post it. Yes because what else can I do when there's quarantine.

Chewing. There's nothing but the sound of chewing to fill the menatinus boredom. It felt like the world was in an eternal loop of his life and Dexter Grif couldn't pinpoint any reason for it. Deja vu would be his best bet for the situation.

Grif sticks his hand in his mouth and chews on his fingers. Peeling the edge of his skin off in boredom. Biting off his nails. His fingers were starting to smell quite aweful.

But he's not the only one chewing their skin out of boredom. Simmons had eaten his fingers down to raw and had to bandage them with Grif's help.

Its been too long since Sarge and the rest of Red team left. They should of returned by now. With food, orders. Anything.

God Does Grif actually want an order to follow for once in his life? No it was more like, an order to ignore cause at least then normalcy had returned. With everything they need to survive.

Its been a god damn three weeks and food was gone. Perhaps leaving only two men at base to guard it was a bad idea.

Grif regrets being so careless with eating. But he can't help it. When he's scared, food is normalcy. When he's alone. Food was there. When he was neglected food would never betray him.

So what if that made everyone think he was a slob. So what if his size made people think his every waking moment concerned food.

And Right now. Food is something they desperately need.

There's nothing in blue base. No one at all. No food. Just water. So they can at least last a few more days.

Simmons has started chewing on his finger wraps.

"Stop that." Grif says. Concerned but mostly agitated.

"I can't reach command. I need something to do or else I'll go crazy."

"You chewed your hand open."

"And you're starting to, fat ass."

"Don't. Not right now. I'm seriously not in the mood for that." Grif scowls at him. He doesn't need this fucking teasing routine. Was it normalcy sure? 

Did it hurt though. Yes. God did it hurt.

"I'm so hungry.." Simmons then whines. "Seriously though you are a fatass. If we had rationed like I told you to!"

Grif covers his ears. "Shut up. I don't care. I was nervous."

"No you put your hands down right fucking now and listen to me! This is your god damn fault!!" Simmons stands straight and stops a foot. He tries to move his robotic arm but he had forgotten he had put it in his room to tinker with later. So all that's raised is his arm stump.

Grif glares. "Oh go back to eating yourself then."

Simmons growls in his throat and drips his arm. He turns around and storms to the edge of the base looking outside through the door. He wasn't eating himself. It was a nervous tick. This doesn't count as breaking a vegan diet.

Grif watches him and glares. Though something tingles in the back of his neck. Something of a familiar annoying voice egging him on.

"Well you know. There still is one thing left in base you can eat."

Grif scrunches his nose. Trying to pin where he's heard this voice before. Why it filled him with rage and why the smell of tomato sauce is burning his nose. He curls his fists looking around the base.

Simmons looks back at him. "What?"

"Did you not hear that? It sounded so clear."

"No. I didn't hear a single thing. Don't tell me you're losing it again."

"I'm not losing it!"

"You're hearing voices. They say I'm delicious."

Grif shakes his head. "What was that last part?"

"We're going delirious."

"No I'm sure you said something else."

Simmons turns back and starts walking over to him. Something seemed very very wrong. Simmons wasn't walking the same as he usually did. His walk was too confident, it wasn't angry. It was something Grif didn't think he'd ever notice. Its not like he was close to Dick Simmons.

But it feels like he's lived with him forever.

God this looping thought process is going to kill him he swears.

"Was it that I could stuff myself into your mouth?"

Grif stands stunned. He's flush dark. But this didn't feel like a sexual play on words. This felt literal. "Simmons are you okay?"

Suddenly his body language is back. He's glaring. "I'm fine. Obviously. Just"

And his head tilts to the side. "Thinking we should get seasoning."

Grif covers his mouth.

"Oh don't tell me you're full already. You haven't eaten in a week, Dexter." 

Grif looks up and Simmons isn't in front of him. He looks around frantically. "Simmons! Don't.. this isn't fucking funny!"

Grif feels a tap on his shoulder of something wet.

He turns and Simmons is standing there hand bleeding. 

"Hey.. you're scaring me. Maybe we should lay down. We've been up for six hours on no food."

Grif feels like crying and then lifts up Simmons arm. "Lets get this cleaned first."

\--

Simmons sits in a chair as Grif works to carefully unwrap his hand. Sitting silent and patient till he says. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Grif feels the same way too. The hand looked awful. With nails bitten off and patches of skin missing. "Jesus fucking Christ, Simmons what did you do to yourself!"

"I'm just.. so hungry."

"And you call me insatiable." Grif snorts and gets clean wraps. His stomach gurgles at himself reminding him he needs to eat too. And god did he hate the smell of the his one chewed on hand and Simmons' fucking mess of one smelled like food.

Simmons' body language changes again. "What's wrong, Dexter. I can offer you a bite if you need it."

Grif shakes his head. Ignore it. Its nothing. He thinks to himself and reaches for more cloth to clean Simmons' hand with. He shuts his eyes moves his hand over to clean. 

He opens his hand to see there's a bloody knife in the cloth. And Grif drops it like a hot cake.

No shut up about food god dammit! This isn't .. this is disgusting. Grif feels tears on his face and looks up for reassurance from Simmons. And he's not there again.

Grif stands and runs through the base halls. "Simmons!!" He sees their bedroom open. His whole body trembles and he curls his fists. The lights are on in there when usually Simmons insists they keep them off when the room isn't in use. He enters and covers his mouth ready to vomit.

Simmons lay on the bed. Chest bleeding. Arm eaten and chewed.

Grif runs to the bed side and swallows. He tastes iron and then throws up along the side of the bed.

He falls into it and starts crying. 

"Should of taken my offer Dexter Grif."

That edgy fucking voice again. 

"Well that's fine. I can play around with this universe here as much as I desire. So.. Let's start again shall we."

\--

Chewing. There's nothing but the sound of chewing to fill the menatinus boredom. It felt like the world was in an eternal loop of his life and Dexter Grif couldn't pinpoint any reason for it. Deja vu would be his best bet for the situation.


End file.
